


The Arcade

by EggingtonToast



Series: Los Santos Vagabonds [10]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen, Vagabond's Vagabonds, vv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:38:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggingtonToast/pseuds/EggingtonToast
Summary: Egg's either in their apartment or out in the streets, mind not fully there.





	The Arcade

It was hard, most days. Maybe some days. No, most days.

Egg spent most of their time between jobs either in their crappy apartment with the radio on real low, dirty or clean dishes in or next to the sink in various states of washed, or wandering the streets of the city late at night, where nobody but junkies and criminals and the Underground come out to play.

Well, either way they weren't fully there. Hiding behind thin latex they stepped around empty cans and scuffed hardwood floors, or broken glass bottles in the street gutters. Many masked and mighty, a mercenary with a jungle, a forest, in the duffle bag in the trunk of their car. 

_what is this, some hotline miami shit?  
they liked playing that game. too bad their hand tremors got so bad._

Tonight was a “wander outside” night. They had an itch to scratch.

There was an old arcade, closed down for the night, they went to when they first moved. Well, not moved. Ran away, more likely. Better than the mall’s arcade in their hometown _shit town -shut up- fuck off_

_they haven’t been back in a while_  
_give them time, they’re missing Her_  
_Her? Oh geez_  
_what a fucking loser_

They gave the locked door a strong “Shave and a haircut” knock and it opened after two beats of silence. The sleepy eyed woman gave them a squint, poking the latex mask over their face curiously before recognizing them.

“Don’t you favor the chicken one?” She asks. They shrug and step in through the door as she steps to the side, giving a shrug in response.

“Guess the chicken is work only.” They nod absently. Quarters jangle in their jacket pocket. The woman saunters to the popcorn machine.

They like coming here after hours. The hackers don’t mind since they’re their hired muscle sometimes. The animal masks add an extra intimidation factor on top of the strong muscle cloaked under nondescript t shirts and heavy, worn jackets. Maybe the techs are scared shitless. Maybe they don’t mind a strong mercenary going nuts at skee-ball at odd hours of the night. _maybe they actually trust the masked maniac._

They aren’t a maniac. Just an overactive imagination.

_yeah right  
shut up_

“Hey cockface, you aren’t a cockface today.” They’re about to push some quarters into the machine when a shifty eyed man comes up to them, clapping a hand on their shoulder but then realizing they don’t like that, yanking it away like it got burned. They turn to the man and give a blink of recognition. He talks again.

“Just giving you a hard time, haha. But for real, no rooster mask? You cost me ten bucks, we had a bet going on.” They awkwardly pat his shoulder in what they hoped was sympathy. The woman who greeted them at the door pops up behind the man(they’ve taken to calling him Larry in their head, Lar, out loud.) and ruffles his hair hard.

“I told you, the chicken mask is a work mask!” She snarks into his ear. He cringes at the volume aimed right into the side of his head, like a bullet. The woman punches them lightly in the shoulder.

“No hard feelings, yeah? Just a little something to pass the time. I know you don’t like gambling or getting too involved.” She says, softer. They nod in understanding, pushing more quarters into the machine. It lights up and heavy plastic spheres roll out, ready to be bowled up the ramp.

The light is bright and almost blinding, a hard contrast to the dimly light arcade. The soft whirring of computers leaves a light blanket of noise, the sound of arcade machines peppering on top just a touch too heavy. 

_remember how She used to wrap a blanket around you when it got too much-_  
_remember how She would hold you tight when you started shaking-_  
_you shook a lot, back then didn’t you?_  
_She molded you into the killing machine you are today-_  
_She made you-_  
_She loved you-_  
_She had to run away-_  
_you know it’s not your fault-_  
_but it feels like it, doesn’t it?_

“Hey.”

_you miss Her, don’t you?  
you miss Her so much._

“Hey!”

 _pathetic little killer pet_  
you’re an attack dog with an abandoned leash-

“Dick head, wake the fuck up.”

A sharp smack to the back of their head wakes them up, they jump a little in their seat. They mumble a _Sorry Darlene-_ but get cut off.

“It’s D around here, okay? No first name shit.”

They say sorry. Darle- D. D frowns. They realize they’re clutching a plastic ball. The noise of the room seeps into their brain a little as they grow lucid once more. Their hands shake just a bit. D is holding them by the shoulders.

“You here?” She asks. If they squint they can almost see Her in D’s place. That’s not fair, is it?

_it isn’t and you know this_

They nod. D hums.

“Sit.” They continue standing.

“Fucking...come on, sit.” D shoves their shoulders down, they immediately sit down on the skee-ball machine next to them, in the rows of skee-ball machines in the arcade. D sits next to them, but not too close. They don’t like being touched too much.

“I know you aren’t gonna tell me shit.” D says. They hold back a snort. The two of them stare at the floor together. Lar is off typing away at his computer hub in the corner by the prize table. Some of the other hackers are flitting about, stepping around tangled wires and scattered popcorn on the floor. Someone’s sleeping by a claw machine. Someone else is sleeping in the claw machine.

The quiet moment is nice. They aren’t privy to conversation. D prys the ball out of their hand and shoves it back into the little slot it rolled out of with its brethren. They silent lace their fingers around D’s.

“You act like someone died.” D says, finally. Egg swivels their head to her, tired eyes meeting equally tired eyes. She gives them a small rueful grin. They almost touch her shoulder, almost, drawing back their hand in retreat. She grabs it instead, lacing the fingers together.

“Lose someone important to you?” They still for a moment, enough for D to notice. They turn away, glancing at the hacker still asleep in the claw machine.

They shrug.

**Author's Note:**

> It was a long time coming that I come back to the VV universe.  
> Egg's gone through some changes. I'm trying to get them back to their roots.


End file.
